


Experience and the Lack Thereof

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Obitine Week 2018 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Beginning of heartbreak, Canon Compliant, Did I Mention Angst?, F/M, Heavy Angst, Kissing, NO DEATH, Obi-Wan is nineteen, ObitineWeek, ObitineWeek2018, Poor Obi-Wan, Pre-Pacifist Satine, Satine is eighteen, They both want sex but don't get it, Unhappy Ending, no violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Satine intended this to go in the direction of sex. Obi-Wan clearly liked that idea too. The interruption is not another person... it is something that will forever keep them apart, and Obi-Wan is unprepared for such a long-enduring heartbreak so early in his life.Especially when it's Satine who calls it quits, and not because of the no attachment rule.





	Experience and the Lack Thereof

**Author's Note:**

> I often write Obi-Wan and Satine as content/happy in a romance without sex. Warning: This is not one of those stories. The brain sparkles went somewhere else this time. I do have other plans for this ship week, though, never fear.

 

It was wildly telegraphed beforehand. Satine could have stopped it at any point.

With Qui-Gon down in the village spying, and Obi-Wan's foot still too injured for walking or fighting, Satine had been left at the cabin to make sure Obi-Wan didn't get eaten by something.

A reasonable worry, and all the more worrisome for it not being an exaggerated possibility.

He sat there on the floor beside her, foot propped up on a pillow, and bandaged as tightly as Satine could manage with strips from Obi-Wan's robe.

There was a hunger in his eyes, the same that had shown up after he nearly died in the Foot Incident, something that bordered on frantic, and Satine felt pretty sure she knew what to make of it.

_The we-might-die adrenaline._

It was an awkward shift when he leaned in to kiss her.

And then he was _there._

He was...

He was _terrible._

_Well, it looks like the worldly-wise nineteen-year-old, for all his year ahead of me in life experience, hasn't picked up kissing skills for it._

Satine pulled back, just a centimeter, murmuring, “Easy, don't rush.”

He moved in again, a bit less frantic, but he still had no idea what to do with his hands or lips, and was pushing her head back with his enthusiasm.

She guided one hand to her neck for support, because she really didn't need it to snap with him pushing her head backwards, and adjusted his other where it was braced on the wall.

He made a protest sound and struggled with his knees for a moment before planting one on either side of her own legs, so that he knelt above her, foot awkwardly splayed against the floor in its bandages.

“Obi—” it took her a moment to pause his lips pushing at her long enough to speak. “Obi. If you want to kiss me, it doesn't have to be in under ten seconds, and it doesn't have to further damage your foot.”

He blushed, looking mortified. “O-oh—”

“I know it's taken you six months to work up the courage for it, so it seems to me you deserve to enjoy it.”

Hope filled his eyes. “Oh.”

“Let me show you, hm?”

“Of course.”

He obeyed as she settled him on his butt again, checked the bandages of his foot— ridiculous civilian that he was— and propped it on the thin pillow again, and then moved to crouch over his lap.

A squeaked gasp escaped him and his eyes went huge.

Satine smirked, and leaned in. She pressed feather-light kisses across his cheeks and near his mouth, and then one half on his lips, half on the side of his mouth. He was responding, definitely, but holding very still otherwise. Shaking, just a bit.

The next kiss she placed full on his lips, and his lips pressed to meet hers, but it still hadn't occurred to him to open his mouth.

_Oh, darling._

Satine brushed her tongue across his lips and he jolted, eyes going even _wider_ and looking almost scared.

She paused. “I thought Jedi viewed sex rather casually,” she murmured.

He swallowed. “W-we do.”

“How is it you are so frightened, then?”  
“I've— I've never.”

_No kidding._

“Why not?” Satine asked. “A pretty little Jedi like you, nineteen years old, in a Temple where sex is viewed as natural and without stigma, and _no one_ has propositioned you?”  
“Th-they have. But... _I_ don't like casual sex.”

Oh.

Uh-oh.

“I just never _wanted_ to, with them. Quinlan thinks I'm lying, but. I'm... I'm just not built that way.”

Satine scooted back a bit, still crouched, ankles on either sides of his knees, effectively trapping him, but now out of range herself. “Obi, you're sweet.”

The horror and anguish building in his face, as if he wanted to just start begging _no_ over and over was rather awful to see.

“But I don't think you understand what _stigma_ there would be for a Mando'ad to be serious about a Jetii.”

“But, _Satine—_ ”

“No, you don't. I would be _disowned._ My family would never love me again, they would try to kill me if we met again. My Clan would declare me dar'manda, I would have nothing. And while I like you, a lot, you're not worth _that._ It's family, Obi-Wan. To a Mandalorian, family is everything.”  
“But if for _you,_ it _was_ just sex, it wouldn't be a problem. Or do your people own your body, not just your allegiance?”

“Obi...” Satine sighed. He clearly didn't realize just how disappointed _she_ felt about all of this. “You don't just want sex because I'm hot, but because you care about me.”

“Yes!”

“I can't do that with you. Not with a Jedi. Casual, sure. But you... you're _falling_ for me.”

He looked stricken.

“And I don't want you like that.” She didn't want to hurt him, but she also wouldn't screw him out of pity, and then have his brain conjure up even more hopes and gossamer webs of belief to have them smashed.

“Being a Mandalorian is not just... being a person, who happens to be from _here._ You're Mandalorian _first._ And there's things about that, things built into me, that I wouldn't cast aside for anyone. Not my family's honor, not my glory. Not our blood feuds or our land.”

“But what about _love_ ?” Obi-Wan whispered, sounding so _ruined..._

“I don't want love with a Jedi.” She stood up and walked out the door, in spite of the pang her heart gave when she heard him try to stifle a sob.

_If I asked him to stay with me, to live life openly at my side as my husband or consort or partner, I think he might agree. He would leave the Jedi Order for me._

If he wasn't to that point yet, he was hurtling rapidly in that direction.

It was sweet, and a pretty daydream, but there was an ugly, vicious side to it.

It might be nice right up until the point where it was Known. And then...

No. That life was not the life she wanted.

Obi-Wan might be the _person_ she wanted, she feared, dreaded that it might prove to be the case in a way none of her previous lovers had been...

_But the life I would lead with him at my side is not the life I want._

He might never understand, but it wasn't really something Satine could give words.


End file.
